


Kinktober 2018

by djsoliloquy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 80s, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Angst and Porn, Ass Play, Ass to Mouth, Barebacking, Begging, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Cock Worship, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Feet, Kinktober, M/M, Rimming, Sensory Deprivation, Spitroasting, Temperature Play, Threesome - M/M/M, Virtual Reality, Xenophilia, soft cock, the mildest most consensual of sentient/aware necro warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djsoliloquy/pseuds/djsoliloquy
Summary: Collected kinktober prompts, will be updated throughout the month! See chapter index/tags for specific info.





	1. Day 1 - Face Sitting (Reyes76), Vampire AU

**Author's Note:**

> Using October as a way to write sketches and motivate myself into the writing habit again without stressing about editing thirteen times and making everything "perfect" :) I'm leaning heavy on the R76 pairing and on xeno kinks as a general theme, and will update as new stuff gets posted. Subscribe to get notified! Will also post links on my Twitter!
> 
> [Chapter index for easy list of kinks/updates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174895/navigate) :)
> 
> For Day 1 - Stas has a lost boys style vampire au for silver-daddy-biker-dracula Jack and middle-aged-hunter Gabriel, and I was like fuck yeah! So, handwavy reyes76 80s trash vampire au.

Blood is pooling from his neck, going tacky on his collarbone. A wet fucking mess. Bite wounds oozing into his shirt when he stumbles into the night club, a den of neon haze and warm bodies. Music so loud you can hide in it. The kids on the dance floor don’t pay him any mind; couple boys in denim jackets and sweat-stained Queen shirts are doing rails in the bathroom but they clear out as soon as they see Gabriel. Which, yeah–he’s got cuts and bruises all over him, and three different kinds of viscera on his coat. Fuck today. Fuck whatever higher monsters are letting their city’s gutters run over with vermin.

Gabriel locks the door when they leave. Uses a few precious seconds to lean over a sink and wash out his neck before throwing gauze over it. He looks at himself in the mirror. A torn up man on the wrong side of forty, dangling over the bad edge of 3AM.

He draws his coat up to hide the bandage. The restroom door empties into a dim-lit hallway, empty, and–

“You’re out late, Gabriel,” Jack Morrison says, suddenly _there_ , clearly waiting for him.

Yeah, to hell with everything about today.

Jack couldn’t be more out of place if he tried. It helps explains why the hall emptied out. He looks like cop, or an old dad waiting to drag their kid back to their senses. Makes Gabriel look like one of the young punks in comparison–a physical vision of mature authority, a move poster rendition of Transylvanian aristocracy except he's wrapped in riding leathers instead of a count’s smoking jacket. 

And Jack’s eyes are inclined to reflect back dangerous light, predatory and bestial. If he has a touch of pink in his cheeks Gabriel knows it’s only because he’s fed recently.

He watches Gabriel motionlessly, almost mechanically.

“You run into trouble?” he says. “Or just adding to your bite collection?”

Gabriel grabs the front of Jack’s shirt and pins him against the wall. There’s a satisfying thud. “I don’t want to hear anything you say,” he growls, “unless it’s _let me get on your dick_ or _sorry you had to kill all those fledglings yourself_.”

...and Jack is letting him to do it, Gabriel thinks in a daze. Nobody manhandles a centuries-old vampire unless it wants to be pushed around.

Jack’s gaze slides between Gabriel’s face and his mouth, then down to his neck. “Why don’t I give you a ride to your hotel room,” he says in a low voice, and Gabriel’s grip on him lessens before he makes any conscious decision to do so.

The facade of mortality fades once they’re inside Gabriel’s room. Jack shoves him halfway across the room with a flick of his wrist, surrounding him on the mattress. He noses against Gabriel’s neck, inhaling and lapping with the flat of his tongue cleaning the skin of blood. 

Gabriel fumbles for the gauze, tearing off. Ringing the fucking dinner bell. 

It’s like being pinned by stone, Jack holding him firm before the sudden pain from the teeth shoots down Gabriel’s spine. His whole body wrings up tight as Jack sucks, drawing deep. Sharp cold pain until it isn’t, until it hits Gabriel’s dick and lifts all the hair on his arms, melts into something warm and absolutely perfect.

“Fuck, fuck, _Jack_.” He’s gasping, clutching the back of Jack’s leather jacket. His hips do a little thrust into Jack’s weight on top of him. “Thought–thought you’d fed, jesus–”

In answer Jack leans back, mouth red and luscious. So quick maybe it’s a trick of the light, he rolls his eyes.  _Too old for this shit_. He kisses a clean spot on Gabriel’s jaw, smearing him with traces of blood. “What, you never save room for dessert?” he says, ripping open Gabriel’s pants.

A soft sucking kiss closes the neck wound, cause someone's using his table manners this morning. Jack strips his pants off him and suddenly Gabriel finds himself gripped and nearly thrown, straddling Jack’s hips.

“The hell?”

“Get up here,” Jack says, patting his chest, then hauling Gabriel by the back of his thighs when Gabriel is too slow. His strength far beyond his body.

Gabriel is going to hate himself in the morning for the sounds he makes when Jack position him over his mouth, licks up the side of Gabriel’s dick. Even the glimpse of fangs isn’t enough to stop him from getting harder. Jack’s mouth is so hot right now, not even a flicker of the dead thing he really is.

“I’ll kill you if you bite it off, I swear to god,” Gabriel hisses. He drags his nails through Jack’s hair, pulling uselessly.

An amused sound beneath him. Jack doesn’t seem to mind the fuss, or the precum smudging his cheek–a match to the blood he left on Gabriel’s face. With handfuls of Gabriel’s ass he nudges Gabriel further up, directly over the _teeth_ , oh _god_ –

Swipe of that tongue over Gabriel’s hole has his thighs trembling. “Ever touch yourself here and think of me?” Jack says, muffled, kissing wetly at him. “Want me to use you? Ask me nice and I might.”

Gabriel can’t catch his breath.

“Fuck. Fuck you, Jack.” It comes out a lot less sincere than he wanted. 

Jack reaches a hand over Gabriel’s dick, hovering just long enough that Gabriel angles towards it. Fucking himself between Jack’s tongue circling his hole and his hand. Gabriel arches, split between where to be when Jack licks into him, slow and messy and a long single minded thrust, too thick–hell, undulating and reaching in ways that must make it longer than a human’s.

“What the fuck,” Gabriel says, feels like he’s going to come all at once. His skin feels warm all over, stretched tight, and that’s before he feels Jack lick his prostate. “Jack,” he whines, trying not to whine. His mind’s struggling to contain the idea of Jack being so deep in, that long tongue coiling up inside him. And it’s four in the morning and his muscles are spasming, the very last of his energy  abandoning him.

The length of tongue slips out, _so_ _much of it_ , fuck if Gabriel isn’t shaky from the loss. “You’re awfully pretty like this,” Jack confides. He spreads Gabriel’s thighs even more, angling his head to the artery near his groin. “You mind?” he asks like a bastard, before opening the femoral and latching on anyway.

Gabriel grinds hard on him, needy and primal. The inhuman grip around his cock speeds up, and Gabriel thrusts into it, offering himself into Jack’s mouth at the same time. It’s the same sharp piercing pain, followed by overwhelming satisfaction and fullness, his body is spasming with it. Heaven help anyone in neighboring rooms, hearing the noises Gabriel’s making. Heaven help Gabriel, who is saying things he won’t remember in five minutes when the blood isn’t this important, he doesn’t even notice when Jack closes up the femoral artery and fucks back into him with his mouth, and it’s so fucking tight, bouncing Gabriel on his tongue until it isn’t clear if Gabriel is coming or dying, either way it’s transcendent and terrible, power enveloping his whole body, his lungs hurt and he’s sobbing and gasping through it until--

  until he’s on his back in the middle of Jack’s arms, not sure if he’s even awake anymore, and Jack is offering his own throat, and nothing has ever been as good as the blood in Gabriel’s mouth. Jack’s blood.

He rouses with Jack curled around him. No idea how much time he’s lost. The aches he expects from age and his occupation are distant echoes, dulled by the blood’s song. Jack’s under the covers with him, indulging in a doze before sunrise, as warm and content as vampires get. He could be human almost. An older man with a casually amazing body. Perhaps watching over Gabriel to make sure he’s fine–but that’s the most dangerous fantasy of all.

“This was a mistake,” Gabriel says, voice rough.

“Mmm. Don’t worry about it. You’ll kill me next time, won't you?”

Gabriel swallows. His throat’s dry, though he notices Jack set out some water for him before tucking them in. “Yeah, Jack. I’m going to kill you.”


	2. Day 2 - Ass Worship/Begging (Jack/Gabriel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Jack's patchy nasty No-Shave November leads to a Gabe attempting a (retaliatory) No-Dick December. Cue Jack eating out Gabe until he’s begging his heart out. Cock cage wasn't a kinktober prompt, I just put it in because I love them _so freaking much_

Gabriel bites into the couch pillow. “It doesn’t make sense,” he grinds out. “Some people can’t grow facial hair, Jack.”

“Mmmmm. Thought that counts.” Muffled around a mouthful of Gabe’s ass. Big hands squeezing and massaging everywhere between Gabriel’s lower back and his thighs and it feels  _great_. Fucker.

“All that patchy fuzz.” He’s flushed hot all over. Jack’s been at him, leisurely and thorough, for–god, it feels like hours. What day is it? Gabe’s babbling. “Hate no shave November.  _Fuck_.”

Jack hauls him into his lap, getting at that big feast of ass he apparently can’t get enough of. Wet slobbery lick between the cheeks, one hand massaging the skin between Gabriel’s belly button and the hard plastic cock cage holding Gabe in till New Year’s.

That had been the idea. Drive Jack up the wall with a month-long campaign of No Reyes Dick. But then Gabe feels the Jack circling fingers over his hole and thinks maybe No-D December has backfired on him in a big way.

“Still counts, right?” Jack says, petting him there. Working Gabe’s ass like a cat getting ready for a nap, indulging in all that’s plush and perfect. Hot breath near Gabriel’s hole. “You don’t get hard, I don’t get your cock, it’s all in the rules. I’d be sucking on that cage otherwise, we don’t have to–but you taste so good, Gabe. God.”

Gabriel hides his face in his hands. Least he’s not the only one babbling. “Guess we’re both making sacrifices,” he says tightly. His dick is trying to get hard, pressing on the cage completely useless.

Jack pushes up one of his knees, making room. Making room for his  _face_ –hands expose Gabe, and then Jack is kissing, sucking at him. Between licks: “Can’t say no when you’re winking at me back here, babe. So soft. Wish you could see what I’m seeing, incredible.”

“You’re a slut, Morrison.”

“Don’t think you mind, Reyes.”

Gabe’s so loose and fucking ready for it, though. Jack slips in two fingers easy oh, it’s  _good_. Thick. Holding him open, tongue sneaking in beside. Jack’s fingers in him. “Yeah,” Gabe moans. He throws his head back and makes a strangled noise. “Oh my god, yes, come on–”

Jack’s rough fingertips stretch out his walls, find his prostate and if Gabriel gets a hand down between him and the couch he’s pretty sure his dick’s leaking, how is this his life. “Feels like I’m gonna cum, Jack.”

“More?” Jack says. Pulling out, no no no– “What do you want? Gabe.”

“More, give me more.” He’s shaking, legs weak and stomach going tense when Jack hits his prostate over and over. He can only strain against the plastic and it aches in his balls, deep where Jack’s fingers and tongue are reaching. “Need it. Please–please–”

“Shh, I got you. I got you, Gabe.” One of his hands runs up Gabriel’s spine, settling him and holding him down and making him want to sob all at once. Gabe backs his ass up, shoving into Jack as much as he can get away with. He wants it even while a little voice in the back of his brain reminds him he can’t come, he can’t get hard.

When Jack slides a third finger inside, Gabriel keens and rocks his hips back like he’s ready to get fucked, greedy for it, anything to get him over the edge. The edge he can’t reach. Jack crooks his fingers just right for him, but it’s not enough. “Jesus. Look at you, Gabe,” Jack breathes, grabbing Gabe’s ass hard, and Gabriel’s face is on fire realizing how he must look, riding Jack’s hand in ever-more desperate attempts to make himself come.

“Come on, please,” he says and hides his face in a couch pillow. “Jack, please. Please.”

Jack spreads his ass and milks him until Gabriel sees spots. He makes a strange noise–equal parts defeated and pornographic, but slowly the urge to come is flowing out of him. There’s going to be a terrible wet spot under him, he’s sure.

“Gorgeous,” Jack says, and Gabriel hears him unzip his trousers. He spreads his legs out a bit, hoping Jack will take pity and fuck him after he’s done fingering all the come out of him. “How you feel?”

Gabe’s dick gives a sad little twitch. His ass feels like he’s been exercising his glutes hard for an hour. He still wants to come, though he probably couldn’t even if he took the cage off. “Shut up.”

“Proud of you.” Jack gives his rump a fond pat. “Think of it this way, it’ll be December 3rd in a few hours. You’re almost ten percent finished.”

Gabriel groans and continues to lie boneless on the couch.


	3. Day 3 - Temperature play (R76)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 3 - temperature play, sensory deprivation and edgeplay were all prompts for today. Very questionable on edgeplay since, well. they're not really playing. It's consensual but acknowledgedly fucked up!

Folk think dying’s the hard part. When the one you love most in the world dies, what else could the end of the world be but personal? Mourning’s just-- not accepting that time’s over, yet. That you can’t get it back.

For better or worse, military training never rid Jack's hope of having that lifetime. That’s what it meant being in love with Gabriel Reyes.

With Reaper’s bulk at his back, repulsive and achingly familiar, Jack thinks: maybe the dying was the easy part. 

It’s been so long, the voice is changed but he could place it anywhere.  _ Right here, Jack _ . Cold as the rest of him, Despite the uncertainty and fear, he wants this. It’s you, his mind supplies as, in the face of all sense, he  _ gets hard _ . Maybe he can’t help it. Part of him is swimming in it. Part of him is seeing crimson over it. Scarlet, oxblood. 

But it’s close enough.

Close enough that the cold, dead grip drifts near to his erection and he moans. 

“That’s all you get, Jack,” Reaper says, and Jack jerks his head in the affirmative. 

“Fine. Come on.” The alternative is nothing. An empty grave. It isn’t Gabriel back there fucking him, but well, Jack’s probably one to talk. “Do it.”

_ He’s dead. He’s dead. _ And that’s got to be Jack’s own blood running down his thigh, easing the way from where Reaper’s broken the skin. Has to be, because it’s  _ warm _ . Corpses aren’t warm. 

Cold grip on him. Hurts. This or nothing. They’re gonna kill each other, that’s the best he can expect. He breaks his line of sight to look beneath him, his hard dick. The place where they connect. The smoke is swirling around him like ink, cool as midnight. It circles under him, around his face, until he can’t see anything at all. He has the feeling Reaper sees all of him just fine, all the particles of him in every secret nook of Jack’s body. It has Jack reaching for himself, the dripping mess of himself that’s somehow completely unmoored and on display at the same time.  

The hand on his thigh goes tighter and he hisses from the pain. The rush of blood under the skin at least distracts from the chill, warming into something harsh and pleasant. 

“That all you got?” Jack groans.

Shooting each other in the back's almost expected. Dead thing’s hands holding his hips up for this sham of lovemaking isn’t as bad as it gets. He’s feeling his age as much, would be lying if he said the twinge of fear, the humiliation, the disgust wasn’t enough to turn him off.

“Shit, you always--had that subtle touch, didn’t you,” Jack grits out on an especially sharp thrust, shaking with pleasure. Smoke invades his mouth, his nostrils. He chokes on it. 

Dark, dry laughter makes Jack’s skin crawl. It’s like wind through a rattling ribcage. Doesn’t stop his cock dripping over his hand, so flushed it feels unreal. When Reaper stops briefly, fully seated inside him, Jack can’t breathe. It pushes all the air out of him, there’s no room left for anything else.

”You stole my line,” says Reaper, drawing back. The head of his cock catches on Jack’s rim before he slams in even harder.  

Jack howls. Overwhelmed by the satisfaction and fullness. He’s nothing but smoke, caught spasming around it. He closes his eyes to block out everything for a moment, trying to ground himself, focusing only on feeling. Useless. Being stretched around dead skin, the heavy weight over him--that’s all there is, being filled again, and again. Claws tear down his shoulders, raking open wounds.

_ Dead. He’s dead _ . 

A dead thing is fucking him, god, Jack should care more than he does. He wants this. He wanted this. Equal parts  _ yes, please, more _ , and  _ cold, wrong, this is a dead thing. _ Desperate and ugly and he doesn’t care. He’s decades past caring and heaving back at a dead man, knees pushing against smoke, panting, sweat stinging his eyes. “You son of a bitch,” he growls, “gimme all you got, come  _ on _ ,”  and Reaper digs his talons into the bones of Jack’s hips and fucks him in violent, shallow thrusts. Out of nowhere in the smoky darkness--the other big hand goes for Jack’s throat, and Jack gasps but he won’t swallow, won’t--not with the dangerous edge of that hand hard against his throat.

It’s so fucking good. Reaper tightens his hold around his neck the smallest amount, and Jack has just enough forewarning to dread his orgasm before it hits like the tail end of a bad hangover. He’s heaving for breath, gasping, can’t feel his limbs, and Reaper fucks him through the aftershocks like he can’t feel or doesn’t care about the hole tightening from overstimulated contractions. Shameful and all-consuming, Jack wants to forget it as soon as it happens but the way it leaves him shaking and weak aren’t easy to walk off. 

“Can’t remember last time you followed an order without bitching,” Jack says dryly, cradling his dick against his stomach with a protective hand. 

Reaper remains in him, rough. Not descending into niceties just because Jack came. “Still a slut for punishment,” Reaper slings back. “But I know what you need.”

Claws tear down his shoulders, raking open wounds.

They may as well be yelling profanities into a dark room, choked through with Reaper’s smoke like a cold damp humidity. Jack thinks he might actually die like this, not fighting back tooth and nail but pried open, yielding, eager. No warmth around him, no heartbeat thundering in the body inside him. Yet very abruptly the haze starts to clear. He feels nauseous when he realizes Reaper’s finished and marked him and it’s as cold as the rest, coating Jack’s insides.

Then it’s gone. Everything. Like a bad dream except for how Jack’s so wrecked he falls forward and can’t stop. He hadn’t noticed how hard he’s panting, his rasped out throat, how his face is wet. Bit by bit, he gets to his feet. Reaper is gone. 

Dying’s the easy part, Jack thinks. 

And he thinks, you fucked a dead thing. 

And, wonder what his face looks like these days. 

It should--he should be horrified. Full of sorrow and revulsion. Yet for the first time in what feels like hours, Jack’s body relaxes. Ambient air drapes over him like a blanket, warm and ripe with the smell of soil, leaves. Gonna feel all this tomorrow, and the day after that. 

But somehow he can’t shake the loosening of the knot in his gut. 


	4. Day 4 - Spitroasting (Jack/Gabe/Jack) scifi au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Established relationship Gabe gets spit-roasted by two versions of his bf Jack in a virtual reality sim. Not that much more scifi-y than canon I guess, just different sci fi!

Off-duty use of the simulation program is strictly prohibited, so naturally most soldiers on base get rec time at least once a month. Plus, Jack’s gone on a mission, so the moderator on duty is more than happy to take a long coffee break for him. The mod also happens to be Ana, which helps. The saucy wink as she slips out the door is slightly less appreciated. 

“Hey,” the simulation-Jack says when Gabriel logs in.

They’re in Gabriel’s old apartment, the one with the goodish mattress and the red curtains that turn the room hazy and warm in the afternoon. Jack looks young, fresh-faced, like he did when they first joined up.

He goes to Gabriel on the bed. Gabriel can already feel the positive chemicals exploding in his real world body, soothing out all his rough edges when the Jack holds his face, stroking gentle from the skin under his eyes to his neck.

Jack kisses his temple. “Mmm. You needed this, Gabe.”

Gabriel starts to melt against it. “Yeah, well.” He already has real Jack’s blessing to use his likeness. Which Jack thought was hilarious and asked for a copy of the sim records. And real Jack, Gabe’s Jack, has been off-base for a few weeks.

The scene’s probably ticking off a few settings, but the younger Jack checks in anyway. “Want me to call the shots?”

“...yeah. Sure.”

Perfect human touch. Not like the brain can tell the difference with tech this good, those hands spreading his thighs, reaching for him with wet fingers. And when did they get naked? No time to worry about it. “Do you want to be suspended or bound?”

Gabriel swallows. “No rope. You can--pin me down if you want.”

“Fast or slow?” So easy, like prompting Gabriel to say it out loud isn’t making him flush and pant already. Those hands get him wet, prodding gently at his entrance. “Repeated orgasms?”

“Uh.” Gabriel wets his lips. “You can--use me. Just. Hard.”

Jack rewards him with a lush, deep kiss. “Fill you up?”

“Yeah.”

“How much do you need, Gabe?”

The phrasing sets off shivers all over his skin. Jesus. Palmfuls of Jack’s ass to ground him. How much could he _have_? He’s caught speechless at the thought of himself surrounded by Jack in ways only a simulation could provide, even more desperate to be inside him. Like the frenzied need of mating or collective happy madness, whatever’s enough to bow Gabriel to the demand, stretched and filthy and full. It’s almost too much. Almost frightening in its scope.

“Good. Ambitious.”

Gabriel’s head whips around at the _second_ sim-generated Jack suddenly standing at the side of the bed. This one is identical to the older, current Jack, and he’s gazing down at the two of them with thoughtful fondness, watching as his younger clone fingerfucks him.

As soon as Gabriel sees him, sees they’re being watched, he _gets wet_. Cock in a shameful puddle of precum on his stomach. Jesus.

The original sim-Jack doesn’t seem to mind at all. The way they’re both eyeing Gabriel up makes him antsy. “Boys,” Gabriel says, gesturing. “Glad you could both make it.”

Trying to impress a simulation, for fuck’s sake.

“That so?” says the older one--Morrison. The one that should know all Gabriel’s nonsense better anyway. He holds Gabriel’s face, opens his mouth with a thumb. Gabriel licks at it desperately. “You’re flushed, Gabe. Must miss me pretty bad. Think you can handle both?”

Gabriel stiffens. Young Jack, with a sly grin, drags a finger over his prostate. “Uh.”

“Follow my lead, kid,” Morrison says to his other self. “I’m gonna show you where all his soft spots are.”

 _and why on earth is that so hot_ god how can Gabriel show these sim records the real Jack Morrison when it’s all over, he’s going to die of humiliation first.

“Let’s get him turned,” Morrison says, and two sets of strong arms put Gabriel exactly where he needs to go. Elbows and knees, chest down and his ass on display for them. _Pretty_ , Jack murmurs. Gabriel moans and tries to slide his knees out, dip his hips enough to drag his cock on the bed.

One of them gives his ass a good slap.

Morrison. “Come on. Want to see you be good for us, Gabriel.”

Oh fuck. “Oh _fuuck_ ,” he growls into his arms. “Fuck you both.” It’s a wonder he doesn’t come right there and then. At least it doesn’t seem like they’re making him wait.

“There a please in there?” the younger Jack says. There are too many hands spreading Gabriel open, he can feel the draft and then fingers petting at him. Hooking inside, casually playing with his body. What feels like a thumb, blunt and rough, squelches some lube back inside where it’s starting to drip out.

Morrison chuckles. “It’s gonna be a while til we get to please. Go ahead, he likes it a little rough.” Hot press of a strong body to his own, and Gabriel is far too gone to try or want to convince himself it’s all just make-believe. Bodies are stupid and his accepts everything, wants _more_. 

Jack’s thick cock ruts against the curve of his ass, hot like a brand. Gabriel doesn’t expect the gasp that leaves his lips, and then his lungs can’t work at all, stuck on high desperate little inhales when that cock presses at him, finally pops inside and catches inside his hole.

He fucking _whimpers_. There’s really no excusing the sound he makes.

“Is that enough?” Morrison says. “Show him how much you need, Gabe.”

Gabriel screws up his strength and pushes on his knees, sliding back on Jack’s cock--god, full and thick, yeah, there it was. He can breathe again.

Unexpectedly, another swat on his rump. Gabriel moans but so does Jack, beginning to thrust into him. “Oh. He tightens up when you do that. It’s perfect.”

“Completely out of control,” Morrison says fondly, and presumably it’s his hand massaging the feeling back into Gabriel’s ass. And then, softer, “Look at you. Perfect. Being so good right now.”

“Deserves something nice,” Jack agrees.

Gabriel hears the tiny metallic zipper sounds, belt being undone. The bed dips in front of him and he looks up at Morrison, the hard dripping cockhead being offered to him. _Oooh fuck yes_. Something in his mouth is exactly what he needed. Morrison’s firm hands in his hair, steadying him--

“Only if you want to,” says Jack.

“Do you want to?” says Morrison, sliding a thumb along Gabriel’s mouth.

Oh god damn them, fuck everything, not just _giving_ it to him. Making him fucking _ask_. “Y-yeah.”

“Ask him for it,” Jack says. And he stops thrusting. Starts _pulling out_.

Breathing roughly, staring down at his own clenched knuckles on the bedspread, Gabriel wets his lips. Tries. “I, I want--I want to suck you, p _lease will you let me suck you_ ,” he says in a rush when he’s close to losing Jack’s cock entirely.

“That’s it, big guy.” And oh, it’s fine again, Jack fills him up, oh _god_. “All eyes on you, babe.”

Morrison holds his face, angling him just how he likes. Gabriel’s mouth floods with saliva and he takes it eagerly in his mouth, swallowing, enjoying the ache.

It even smells like the real Jack. Raw and musky, making Gabriel want to strain his jaw just to get his nose closer, swallow him until it’s his whole world. Getting into the blissful rhythm of swallow and suck, swallow and suck. He knows the shape and taste by heart. Jack has really been gone far too long.

Hands smooth over Gabriel’s damp sides, making him arch back like a cat. Jack laughs and thrusts into him sharply, making Gabriel gasp. “Feel how much we want you?” Jack says, deepening the angle to something that has Gabriel panting, moaning around Morrison’s dick.

“Shh,” says Morrison, petting behind his ear. “Easy. Not going anywhere. Jack?”

Gabriel manages a “ _Mmmh_ ,” and even that’s cut off when a firm snap of Jack’s hips presses him forward, sliding the dick over Gabriel’s tongue until it bumps the back of his throat. He can barely think, all he can do is tremble and rock between them, speared on both ends. So stretched around them, pulsing and full and strained. He fucks himself subtly, eyes closing as the sensation rolls over him. His dick feels like metal, so heavy and molten, swinging under him with every jostle.

He’s so completely on board with everything they want to do with him. His real world Jack is never going to let him forget this once he sees the tape.

“Go faster,” Morrison suggests, and Gabriel squirms as Jack pounds into him, fierce and dirty. “Hold his hips. He lets you decide how he gets it.”

Oh god oh god. Oh god. Gabriel’s whole body pulses, winding up towards the point of no return. The way they’re talking about him, like he’s a well-loved toy they brought out, is doing something to him. Every detail between them, conspiring to his doom: the thumbprint Morrison’s leaving on his jaw, Jack’s grip sliding on Gabriel’s sweaty hips, even the slap of Jack’s balls against his ass every time he bottomed out, a tapestry, a symphony of details.

“Reach under him,” Morrison orders, and then there’s also Jack running a firm hand over Gabriel’s cock. That’s also happening.

All his spasms and bucking feels appreciated, yet ultimately absorbed and useless. They don’t mind an outburst from getting his cock rubbed and it doesn’t interrupt them using him anyway, stroking his sides and his face, accepting him. Like losing his mind from arousal is an endearing quirk. Gabriel thinks he might crash the system. “He really loved that,” Jack breathes, sharing a little secret with Morrison. “Oh, that’s-- that’s good. He needed this.”

The idea of reaching for his own cock is scarcely an electrical current in his brain cells before Morrison grips his wrists, pinning them down. “It’s okay,” he says to Gabriel, and hands behind him gentle down his spine, urging him to stay, to allow their claiming. “We got you. You’re being so good, Gabe.”

They would get pleases now if Gabriel had room in his mouth. The possibility of getting off is a hazy fog around him, growing thicker. He imagines what it would be like if the two versions of Jack Morrison kissed over his body, and lo, he hears the wet sounds of mouths above him. He even pulls off Morrison’s cock to look up, get a glance--

Morrison pauses, glancing down at him and chuckling. “Don’t worry, aren't forgetting you.”

“I didn’t…” Gabriel says.

“Wouldn’t neglect you,” Morrison says, lifting Gabriel by the upper arms until  _ they _ can kiss as well, Gabe arched at the small of his back, balanced on his fingertips. Morrison cradles his face, grip on his neck. “Come in him,” Morrison says at Jack, wet against Gabriel’s mouth, and Gabriel’s breath hitches. Jack slams into him. He wobbles on his fingers, precarious. Not gonna be long at all, fuck. The voice against Gabriel’s face is so soft in comparison. “You want to come, Gabe?”

“Yeah, yeah, please. Please. Jack.” He feels Morrison’s hand reach down his belly. Oh, finally. Finally finally finally.

“Stay in him,” Morrison says. “Gotta fill you up, Gabe.”

“Want your cock!” Gabriel says between clenched jaws. “Want everything.”

“Everything?” That earns him a chuckle. “Well, let’s start small. You want my hand or my dick, Gabe?”

Jarring. He doesn’t know. He wants both. Why can’t he have both. “Come on, just.”

Morrison strokes his stomach, grazing the skin so close to his cock. “Want to hear you say it, Gabe. What do you want?”

It’s too tempting. There are two Jack Morrisons on his bed and one of them is in his ass and the other is an inch away from touching his dick, and as much as he wants another dick in his mouth Gabriel Reyes is a weak man right now. “Hand,” he says. “Jack, your hand. Please touch me.”

All he needed, christ, all he needed was friction on his cock and for Jack to lean into him slightly harder, stay inside slightly longer. And then they  _ are _ doing that, uncompromising thrusts and that  _ hand _ . Gabriel moans, baring his neck to Morrison for a bite he gets at once, and the momentum from being fucked drives him into that strong calloused grip he loves. Fingers closing around him in a filthy sweet squeeze, receiving the slide of Gabriel’s cock into that tight hot circle.

This is going to be so embarrassing to watch with his real Jack when he gets home, Gabriel thinks and feels the simulation start to fill his ass. And then he wonders if how many times they can come in him before his session time runs out.  


	5. Day 5 - Feet (flash fiction, Jack/Gabe)

Gabriel cleared his throat.

“Hey, could you step on me?”

“Sure,” said Jack, distractedly.

“On my dick with boots on and you kind of grind down on me a little?”

Jack blinked at him over his cereal bowl. “...right now?”


	6. Day 6 - Cock Worship (Jack/Gabe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has trouble getting hard due to the cold one winter, and Jack loves the D too much to mind. Cock worship + soft dicks. Looove me some soft dicks. (note: i'm clearly behind on kinktober, but I'm gonna keep working on these on my own time! huzzah)

Jack had winters as a kid. You’d call them ‘invigorating’ if you wanted to trick family into visiting for Christmas but really it was just cold. He’s built up a natural resistance. 

As he piles another blanket over the miserable fetal form on the hotel bed, it occurs to him that Gabriel probably didn’t have winters. 

He sits on the mattress and starts removing his clothes. “Need anything? Coffee? Extra hat?”

“Shut up.” The top of Gabe’s beanie, the only bit of him really visible, hunches deeper into the blankets. “Your hands better not be cold. Don’t let the heat out!” he growls when Jack slides in with him. “...seriously?”

“Skin to skin,” Jack says and very carefully works Gabriel’s clothes off under the covers. They kick his pants down to the foot of the bed for extra toe warmth but he can’t convince Gabe to part with what are likely the fanciest, most highly researched pair of long johns the United States Military has to offer. 

A little ashamed that it’s an afterthought, the bow on the package, Jack kisses him. His hands must pass the warmth test, since Gabriel doesn’t complain when he reaches down between them. 

“Must be the temperature,” Gabe says after a while, and Jack says, “It’s fine, I don’t mind,” and when he keeps being tense about it, Jack nips him on the jaw and gives his stomach a fond rub.

“What do you feel like doing?”

Gabe is pink in the face. “Stay under the covers and fuck me?”

He slots his mouth against Gabriel’s, petting at his neck. Gabriel has one hand on the curve of his hip. “Should give you a break from last night,” he says, and hauls himself on top like a heavy heated blanket. Still kissing Gabe’s mouth, tender and sweet. “I’d be happy if I could just get your dick in my mouth.”

“I,” Gabriel says, and then “What?” as Jack worms under the blanket down Gabriel’s body, gently biting and nipping the entire way. “Jack. Jesus. Not like I don’t want to--”

“Let me treat myself.” Cocooned in the blankets, the body smell is concentrated and heady like a sauna of Gabriel essence. Jack might swoon. He holds it together enough to breath over Gabriel’s soft cock, pressing a loving kiss to the silk-soft skin and nosing into Gabriel’s groin to fill his lungs. “Let me treat you. Imagine it’s a massage.”

“Jack, oh my god,” Gabriel says, startled, but Jack recognizes the green-light tone, and in one familiar motion he opens his mouth and envelopes it.  

Oh it’s so good and so easy like this, fitting almost entirely in the waiting pocket of his mouth. He has room to undulate his tongue in rolling slow sucking that he doesn’t want to end, and after hiding under four blankets for hours Gabriel tastes rich, covered in salt from his sweat. Jack soothes at Gabriel’s thigh, stroking from knee to hip, dragging his nails over the thermal underwear Gabriel couldn’t part with, drawn down just enough for this.

He doesn’t have to move up and down to reach everything, just rests his head on Gabriel’s thigh to save his neck and sucks in luxurious, heady waves. He lets his tongue drag over ever ridge and wrinkle, indulging in the texture. Beneath him, Gabriel’s body heat is ramping up, hot to the touch. “This is,” Gabe says, “oh. You were. Okay.”

Minor tragedy, having to pull away to speak. “Nice?” he asks between laps and suckling. 

“Yeah.” Breathy noises, sighs. “You were right.” 

Jack’s grinning. He would be embarrassed to tell Gabriel how much he loves sucking his dick, even when it’s soft and weirdly adorable. He definitely shouldn’t involve the word adorable. He lips at the delicate skin, pausing before he fills his mouth again. “You like it, Gabe?”

Hearing is a bit muffled down there, but it sounds like  _ ohmygodjackjesusohmygod _ . Then a hand winds under the covers to find Jack’s head and touch his face and direct him back to sucking, so Jack takes that as a yes.


End file.
